


Restraint (ver. 2.0)

by FleetofShippyShips



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Biting, Casual Sex, Consent Issues, Don't copy to another site, Drinking, Drinking Games, Drunk Sex, Drunkenness, Dubious Consent, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Happy Ending, First Time, Forced Orgasm, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Lack of Communication, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Miscommunication, Never Have I Ever, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Oral Sex, Party Games, Powerful Harry, Public Blow Jobs, Public Masturbation, Rough Sex, Scratching, Secret Relationship, Truth or Dare, Unhealthy Relationships, Verbal Abuse, Violence, mild choking, uncomfortable sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-20 20:56:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21288053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleetofShippyShips/pseuds/FleetofShippyShips
Summary: On the first night back at Hogwarts, Harry just wants to walk the halls late at night and mourn for what was lost. Instead, he runs into Draco Malfoy placed under the Imperius Curse.It should be clear cut. Malfoy assaulted him, and even if it wasn't his fault, Harry should report it.But things are never that simple for Harry, especially not where Malfoy is concerned.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Blaise Zabini (past), Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter/George Weasley
Comments: 36
Kudos: 125





	Restraint (ver. 2.0)

**Author's Note:**

> Tags are taken directly from the [original version of this](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7408114/chapters/16826122), more may be added as necessary during re-writing.
> 
> This story is one of a toxic, unhealthy relationship that is ultimately repaired through communication and the building of trust. In no way is this fic supporting or advocating for any of the behaviours or dynamics therein. This is a work of fiction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger Warning:** This jumps immediately into an attempted sexual assault scene, please read with caution.

Harry rounded a corner and felt his spirits sink. The last thing he wanted to deal with on his first night back at Hogwarts since its repair was Draco bloody Malfoy. But there he was, walking down the hallway towards him. 

It was too late to turn back. Not without starting something he didn’t want to deal with. All he wanted was to walk the halls alone long after curfew, while it was quiet. To just remember and mourn.

If he turned and went the other way, Malfoy was sure to call him out on it. Harry had made his intentions to start over clear when he’d given Malfoy back his wand once he’d been released after his trial, and turning and walking away now would just be petty. Deserving of ridicule, even if it was exactly what he wanted to do.

There was a chance Malfoy would just walk past him without acknowledging him. A small chance, but a chance.

Harry grit his teeth and kept walking. He looked down at his feet and hoped Malfoy would, for once in his life, not be an absolute prick. That he would just keep walking past and not start something on their first night back.

A moment later his hopes were dashed. Malfoy reached him and veered in front of him instead of walking past.

Harry looked at him with a groan. “Look, Malfoy, I’m really not in the—”

Harry’s words turned into unintelligible sounds muffled against Malfoy’s mouth. It took a moment, while he worked through the shock, to realise Malfoy was kissing him. That Malfoy had grabbed him by the back of his neck and _ kissed _him.

It only took a few seconds after that for Harry to push him away.

“What the fuck, Malfoy?” he snapped, raising the back of his hand to his mouth. 

He barely had time to breathe before Malfoy tugged his hand away and kissed him again. Harry stepped back but Malfoy only stepped forward, cupping the back of his neck firmly and keeping him close. 

Harry made another muffled sound and tried to push him off. They parted for only a few seconds before Malfoy closed the gap again. He’d caught Harry with his mouth open, and their lips slotted together, hot, warm. Harry could feel Malfoy breathing against his cheek and inhaled sharply himself as he realised he’d held his breath.

When he’d handed Malfoy his wand and vowed to start over, he’d really only meant he’d be civil, and hoped Malfoy would be civil in turn. He hadn’t actually wanted anything to do with him. The last thing he’d expect Malfoy to take away from that was whatever had led him to track Harry down and kiss him.

Bloody hell, he was _ kissing _ Malfoy.

He pushed at Malfoy’s chest and they parted for a moment, stumbled back a step, but then Malfoy closed the gap again.

Harry made a weak sound and tried to move backwards but Malfoy only followed close, until Harry’s back was brushing a wall and he realised he was trapped.

And still Malfoy kissed him.

When he tried to turn his head, Malfoy gripped his jaw and held him in place. It wasn’t terrible, like maybe Harry might have imagined, if he’d ever thought of kissing _ Malfoy_. His lips were soft, his mouth was warm. It wasn’t any worse than when he’d snogged Ginny before they’d ended things. It was better than when Cho had kissed him all wet with tears.

But it was _ Malfoy_.

With a fresh wave of determination, Harry got his hands between them and pushed hard. 

Malfoy stumbled back a step and Harry sucked in air and tried to think.

“Malfoy, stop. What are you—”

Malfoy knocked his hands to the side and cut him off. It wasn’t gentle. When their lips met, Harry’s head smacked the wall. It stunned him for a moment, long enough that when he moved to push Malfoy away, he found his arms pinned to the wall by his wrists.

The realisation sent an odd sensation through him, like a bolt of alarm, only hot, rippling through him. He inhaled sharply and shifted his head. For a moment, their mouths parted, and he exhaled and tried to form words. Malfoy kissed him again before he could. Hot, open, soft, a scrape of teeth on his lip, then a bite that sent another alarming ripple of heat through him.

Harry shuddered and couldn’t help but tilt his head slightly into it. Malfoy’s teeth tugged gently at the motion, and the scrape of them made Harry shiver, made him want to press into it.

Malfoy released his lip and kept kissing him, open, deep. Harry felt the brush of his tongue and met it, pressed back against it as another ripple of heat moved through him and he made a soft sound in his throat. Warm air puffed along his cheek and he forced himself to breathe through his nose. When he exhaled, the tension in his body released. 

Malfoy stepped forward until their bodies met and he pressed Harry back against the wall when he slumped. He let go of one of Harry’s wrists and slid his fingers under his jaw, tilted it away until their lips parted and he kissed a hot, wet trail down Harry’s jaw to the skin below his ear.

With a weak, soft sound, Harry grabbed at Malfoy’s shoulder with his free hand. A leg slid between his and pressed. He almost didn’t notice, until Malfoy bit gently beneath his ear and pressed his leg forward again. The motion made Harry moan. Arousal pulsed through him from the pressure and friction against him. 

His own sound startled him and he opened his eyes, not sure when he’d closed them, not sure when he’d even stopped resisting.

“Wait, wait, stop,” Harry said, swallowing and coming to himself like wading out of a dream. He’d kissed back. Bloody hell, why had he kissed back? “Malfoy, stop!”

Malfoy didn’t stop, he bit down on Harry’s neck. It was sharp and Harry hissed and tried to pull away from it. His own movement caused friction against Malfoy’s leg and he ceased all movement and clutched at Malfoy’s shoulder to try and breathe.

He was _ hard_. 

“Malfoy, get off me,” he tried again, pushing ineffectively at Malfoy’s shoulder while Malfoy sucked on his neck.

The sensation made his knees feel weak and, for a moment, his hips twitched against Malfoy’s leg. Malfoy’s twitched back and Harry choked on an inhale from more than just the alarmingly pleasurable sensation of it. 

That was most certainly not Malfoy’s wand in his pocket.

Harry managed to tear his other wrist free from Malfoy’s grip and grabbed him by the hair. He tugged back at the same time as pushing at Malfoy’s shoulder again. It took more effort than it should have, but he got Malfoy to stumble back.

He pressed both his hands against Malfoy’s chest to hold him at bay and tried to meet his eye.

“You need to stop!” he said. “Why are you...?”

A cold, insidious feeling crept through him as he looked at Malfoy’s eyes. They were lifeless. Blank. Staring at nothing. That on its own might not mean anything, but Malfoy had _ kissed _ him, out of nowhere, which was far beyond expected behaviour and he hadn’t stopped when Harry had asked him to. That should have at least garnered a response, even if only to mock him and continue anyway, but it hadn’t.

“Malfoy, say something,” he urged, straining to keep Malfoy back as he continued to try and step closer. The pieces fell into place more clearly. “Fuck, you’re Imperiused.” And very poorly if he was unable to speak or act outside of the command he’d been given. “Snap out of it!”

His words didn’t seem to reach Malfoy. A moment later, Malfoy stepped back and Harry fell forwards, not able to pull back his weight fast enough. Hands grabbed him and he lashed out, but when he hit the ground the air was knocked from him.

For a few dazed moments, he was utterly still, barely aware that Malfoy was mouthing at his neck again, that he was pressing him down on the floor.

Pressure against his groin startled a moan out of him and brought him back to himself. He struggled. He pushed and hit Malfoy. It didn’t do him any good, only increased the pressure and friction against his crotch until he was breathless and shuddering.

“Get off me!” he gasped, trying to twist his head away from Malfoy when he felt his lips move from his neck to his jaw. “Malfoy, fight it, dammit!”

Malfoy seemed immovable to Harry’s words or hands, and Harry started to panic. It was the middle of the night, there would be no one around to help him even if he did cry out loud enough. Malfoy had always been a bit bigger than him, and Harry could barely budge him. In fact, the longer he struggled the harder it got.

And the harder he got, he realised, try as he did to will it away. It was unacceptable. Sickening. Terrifying. Malfoy was _ assaulting _ him and he was bloody _ hard _from it.

He had to get free.

The Imperius curse wouldn’t end until Malfoy completed whatever order he had been given.

Malfoy had gone from kissing him to getting him on the floor. He could feel Malfoy’s erection against his hip. This could only be going in one direction.

Malfoy was going to _ rape _him.

“Please, Malfoy, you have to fight it,” Harry gasped, pushing weakly at his shoulders. “Please don’t do this to me, to _ yourself_. Please _ stop_!”

Malfoy’s only response was to bite down on Harry’s neck again. The sharp sting of his teeth didn’t seem to do anything to lessen the heat coursing through Harry. Even with the prickle of fear in the mix, it wasn’t going away. He couldn’t will it away. In fact, it only seemed to grow stronger even though terror was growing beside it.

“Malfoy, stop,” he said, alarmed at the catch in his own voice. He scratched at Malfoy’s face, but Malfoy grabbed his wrist and pinned it to the ground so hard he yelped from the pain.

Even though it felt good, which was the last thing he wanted, he struggled again. He bucked under him. He tried to twist his body to the side to escape the pressure. He tried to get his legs up to knee him somewhere sensitive. He tried to push Malfoy off him with his other hand. He thought about clawing at his eyes, but some part of him didn’t want to really hurt Malfoy, not when this was obviously not Malfoy’s choice or fault, and even thought he would surely be justified.

The longer Malfoy kept him pinned down, and the more aroused Harry was feeling, the harder it was to fight, and the more frightened he was getting. The more he noticed Malfoy’s erection pressing against him, and the movement of Malfoy’s hips that he’d been trying to ignore as he’d struggled.

Malfoy was going to _ rape _ him and he wasn’t sure he could stop him.

Unless pain knocked Malfoy out of it.

Even if it wasn’t fair, that was all he had left to try. 

But before Harry could try to hit him or scratch at his eyes, already sure it wouldn’t help anyway, he was shocked into stillness by Malfoy getting his free hand between them and tugging at Harry’s belt.

Fear rushed through Harry so forcefully he just _ pushed _and Malfoy was knocked aside by a blast of wild magic.

Harry scrambled backwards until he felt a wall at his back. Like emerging from underwater, he was suddenly aware of how _ loud _ he was. His breathing was ragged and harsh. He could hear it over a rushing sound in his ears. As he struggled up to his feet, he realised, with an uncomfortable lurching sensation in his stomach, that he was _ still _ hard.

After all that, he shouldn’t be. Not after realising Malfoy was going to rape him. Not after feeling Malfoy go for his belt and realising there was nothing he could do to stop him before his magic had taken over and saved him.

He closed his eyes and swallowed heavily. He could almost still feel Malfoy. Phantom fingers tight around his wrist, a mouth against his throat. An erection pressed against him.

A groan startled him and he turned to watch Malfoy pick himself up from the floor. He was holding the side of his head like he’d smacked it hard. 

As Harry watched Draco stagger to his feet, he wondered what he should do and drew his wand from his pocket, cursing himself for not thinking of grabbing it earlier. Ron loved to joke about how he and Hermione forgot about their magic all the time, but he really know better by this point. After everything he’d been through, he should have reached for his wand sooner. Immediately even. From the moment Malfoy had first kissed him.

“Malfoy?” he tried.

Malfoy looked up, eyes wide. They were expressive again and fixing on him with sharp focus. Relief burst through Harry to know the Imperius was broken.

But that still left him standing across from someone who had just assaulted him. Someone who had, unless Harry was very, very lucky, noticed that Harry had stopped fighting back for a few moments before he’d realised Malfoy was under the Imperius curse.

And if he had been able to feel Malfoy’s erection, then Malfoy had certainly felt his the whole time.

How was Harry supposed to explain any of_ that_?

He didn’t even really understand that himself, and he could feel it starting to build in the back of his mind, the shock, the disbelief, the _ panic_.

Malfoy’s expression contorted and he took a step back, then another. Before Harry could think to say they needed to talk about what had happened, or that Malfoy had to at least tell him who had cast the Imperius curse on him, Malfoy turned and started running away down the hall and around a corner.

Once his hurried footsteps had faded away, it left Harry in silence. It magnified the sound of his own breathing. He was still breathing too loud, too fast. He was _ still _ hard.

Why was he still hard?

He couldn’t move. If he tried to walk back now, it would only cause friction and make that alarming arousal worse.

He leaned back against the wall, closed his eyes, and tried to block it all out. When that failed he tried to focus on the fear. The realisation that he had almost been raped. He should be more scared. He should be angrier. He should be anything but aroused.

What if someone had _ seen_?

A bolt of alarm shot through him, and he snapped his eyes open to look around. The hallway was lit by a few widely spaced candles, but he couldn’t see any portraits.

He wasn’t sure whether that was good or bad. If there had been portraits, then maybe they would have called for help before things had gotten as far as they had. Or maybe help would have arrived late enough to see that Harry hadn’t been reacting in the way he should have.

And what _ was _ that about?

He raised a hand to his hair and grabbed a fistful, tugging lightly. Why wasn’t he more afraid? Why hadn’t he fought harder? Why hadn’t he reflexively tried to hurt Malfoy as much as possible to stop him? Why had he held back? It was _ Malfoy_. 

Bloody hell. He’d kissed back. Eventually. Before realising what was really happening. _ He’d kissed back_. He’s kissed _ Malfoy _ and sort of enjoyed it.

He’d only kissed Cho and Ginny before and he hadn’t enjoyed it that much. It hadn’t lit a fire in him _ that _ fast.

He closed his eyes tight again. He didn’t want to think about that. Kissing them had been slow and soft and careful, and he’d liked it. But Malfoy had been fast and rough and forceful and Harry had enjoyed it _ more_.

_ Why_? What was _ wrong _ with him?

What if his magic hadn’t acted out when Malfoy had gone for his belt? 

There was a nauseating, twisting sensation in his stomach. He could imagine it too easily. He had been getting weaker, he didn’t doubt Malfoy could have flipped him over and held him down and done whatever he’d wanted to while Harry was utterly powerless to stop him. 

The thought made his hands shake, made his stomach twist, but it also sent an unexpected low burst of heat through him and he immediately turned and punched the wall.

The burst of pain didn’t help as much as it should have, and he did it again. And again, until his knuckles were bleeding and the arousal was gone.

Still breathing raggedly and loud, he pressed his forehead to the cold stone of the wall and tried to figure out what to do next.

Harry’s hand shook as he healed the marks on his neck the next morning. Like a coward, he’d waited until he’d heard everyone go down for breakfast and then rushed to the bathroom to confirm what he already suspected.

There were red and purple marks on his neck. Bruises and bite marks. More than he even remembered Malfoy making. The sight of them was alarming. He brushed his fingertips over them and was hit with a low wave of heat he couldn’t begin to understand or explain.

He’d healed his battered hand before going to bed, but having any kind of reaction to the marks on his neck just made him want to pummel something until the pain distracted him again.

He refrained. He healed the marks one by one until there was no evidence left of what had happened except the memory that just kept twisting and turning around in his head.

The last thing he wanted to do was walk down to breakfast and face anyone. Particularly _ Malfoy_.

He’d lain awake all night thinking over what he might say to him. He had to say _ something_. He couldn’t just leave it alone, as much as he wanted to block out the memory and pretend it had never happened. 

Someone had cast the Imperius curse on Malfoy. Not knowing who that was pricked away at him. Not knowing the command for sure pricked away at him as well, wondering how far things would have gone. What if he hadn’t even been specified as a target? What if Malfoy had bumped into someone else? Someone younger? Someone even less able to fight back than Harry? 

Who would cast such a thing? And why? To humiliate Malfoy? To humiliate whoever he assaulted? Had they been nearby, watching? Harry didn’t recall seeing or hearing anyone else, so then what was the point of it?

The curse had to be cast by someone in the castle.

Harry remembered Malfoy had looked perfectly normal at dinner that night. Head down and less proud than ever before, but still fairly normal. Whoever had cursed him had done so at some point after dinner.

He needed to tell someone. He had to talk to McGonagall at least, if not notify the Aurors. The Imperius curse wasn’t a joke, and what Malfoy had tried to do to him was no joke. They were inside a _ school _ . Malfoy could have assaulted a _ child_.

Mind made up, he dressed and went down to breakfast, determined to talk to McGonagall.

But all the way down to the Great Hall, he kept thinking. He kept realising, he’d have to explain.

They’d want details. They might even want to view the memory if it came to a trial. And what if they just arrested Malfoy and didn’t even believe he’d been cursed? That wasn’t fair. And what if Malfoy retaliated by pointing out the way Harry had reacted to it?

How was Harry supposed to explain that he’d been hard but still hadn’t wanted it to happen? He wasn’t even feeling very confident of that himself. He could have used magic sooner to fight back, but he hadn’t even thought about it. He’d _ kissed back _. He didn’t even know why.

What if they didn’t even believe him? What if Malfoy said he’d enjoyed it, wanted it, and they just...believed Malfoy instead? What if they looked at Harry and decided he was lying?

What if it got into the papers that he’d kissed Malfoy back and got a bloody erection from it? What if it got into the papers that Malfoy had tried to rape him and it had aroused him instead of terrified him?

By the time he reached the hall his hands were shaking. He sat down beside Ron and tried not to be sick all over the table.

“About time,” Hermione huffed, reaching around Ron and pressing his class schedule into his hands. “I was about to come looking for you.”

Harry stared down at the timetable but didn’t really comprehend what he saw. It looked empty.

“This is going to be the best year ever,” Ron crowed from beside him, jostling his shoulder. “Only one or two classes a day and the rest of it free time? _ Brilliant_!”

“That time is meant for study!” Hermione said sharply. “They’re going to be teaching us more advanced material than the seventh years. Classes are going to be more like lectures than interactive lessons. We won’t just be going over what was already taught to those who were here last year, but new material as well. And we three are at a disadvantage because we _ weren’t _ here.”

“Oh, don’t start that,” Ron muttered. “It’s only the first bloody day. Are you going to be like that all year?”

“Like what, Ronald?” she asked icily.

Harry blinked down at his timetable. The only thing on it for that day was Transfiguration, and not for another two hours. 

More time to think. 

That was the last thing he wanted.

Ron started piling Harry’s plate with food, even though he was still bickering with Hermione, and Harry looked down at it with a queasy stomach.

It would be easier to figure out what to do next if he knew who had cast the Imperius curse and why. Then at least he’d have a starting point. But that would mean talking to Malfoy.

It took a few moments to talk himself into it, but when he finally looked up and over at the Slytherin table, Malfoy was nowhere to be seen.

Some part of him almost felt comforted by that, but it couldn’t last.

They’d have to talk eventually. Harry had to know who had cast that spell.

Harry burst into Transfiguration late. He’d gone for a walk on the grounds after breakfast to try and clear his head and completely lost track of time.

McGonagall paused in her lesson and sent him a stern look when the door shut loudly behind him.

“Mr Potter, if you are going to be late to my class, please enter like a civilised wizard and not an angry troll! Five points from Gryffindor.”

Heat rushed to Harry’s cheeks and he nodded and didn’t look at her as he cast about for Hermione and Ron.

As expected, they’d saved him a seat. He was about to go to them when he noticed Malfoy sitting alone at the back of the class.

Before Harry thought about what he was doing, he veered off to the side and took the seat next to Malfoy.

Hermione and Ron both turned in their seats and peered back at him but he waved them off. McGonagall fixed him with a piercing stare, as if she was attempting to determine whether or not he was planning mischief.

She must have been satisfied, because she resumed her lecture a moment later.

It was only after she began talking again and everyone turned back to the front that Harry let it sink in.

He was sitting right next to Malfoy. 

His mouth went dry and his heart felt a bit fluttery in his chest. He kept his hands in his lap instead of pulling out any parchment. They were shaking.

What the hell was he doing?

What was he even supposed to say?

For several minutes he stared blindly ahead while McGonagall explained their new curriculum. It took far too long before he finally found the nerve to look at Malfoy

Beside him, Malfoy was completely rigid in his seat, eyes wide and looking down at his desk where he had his quill poised over a blank piece of parchment. He barely seemed to be breathing.

Harry wasn’t sure what to do, how to bring it up. Malfoy obviously hadn’t reported what had happened, probably for the same reasons Harry hadn’t. But they had to do _ something_.

After taking a fortifying breath, Harry murmured, “We need to talk about what happened.”

There was a loud crack as the quill Malfoy was holding snapped in his grip.

“Piss off, Potter!” he hissed. He didn’t even look up from his desk.

Harry almost rolled his eyes. That was so like Malfoy, to not cooperate. Even if Harry himself wanted to forget it had ever happened, how could he when he knew someone was going around casting the Imperius curse and using it for _ that _ sort of thing?

The last thing he wanted to do was even remember what had happened in that hallway, he certainly didn’t want to talk about it, but if Malfoy was going to be like that then he’d just have to.

“Who cursed you?” he asked under his breath, keeping an eye on McGonagall to make sure she hadn’t noticed them talking.

The back of his neck itched. He wanted to look around the classroom but he kept his eyes forward. The person who cast that curse might be in the room with them at that very moment.

Part of him really didn’t want to know who it was at all.

“It doesn’t matter,” Malfoy muttered.

It took a few moments for Harry to work through his disbelief. He took his eyes off McGonagall and found Malfoy still looking down at his desk, where he was now playing with a piece of his broken quill as if nothing was wrong.

“Are you serious?” he hissed. “Doesn’t matter? It matters to me and it should matter to you!”

Malfoy curled his hand around one of the fragments of his quill. It stuck out from the bottom of his fist and, for a moment, his hand twitched like he wanted to stab Harry with it. After a tense moment, while Harry wondered what he’d do if Malfoy did try to stab him, Malfoy’s hand relaxed again.

“Sod off,” he muttered, almost dismissively. “It’s got nothing to do with you.”

Everything seemed to freeze for a moment, and then turn red. 

Before he knew what had happened, Harry had turned in his seat and punched him. He caught Malfoy’s chin and snapped his head back. Malfoy made a loud sound as he reeled back so sharply his chair swayed back and nearly toppled over.

“Mr Potter!” McGonagall cried. “Explain yourself!”

Harry sucked in a sharp breath and forced his fingers to uncurl from a fist. He flinched as he turned to see McGonagall crossing the room in long strides.

“I’m sorry, Professor,” he said, still reeling from the fact he’d actually done that in the middle of class.

With an enraged sound, Malfoy shoved Harry just before McGonagall reached them.

“_Mr Malfoy!” _

The force of Malfoy’s shove knocked Harry over the edge of his chair to sprawl on the ground. The impact stunned him for a moment, but he soon picked himself up and whipped out his wand, casting a non-verbal stinging jinx with barely a thought.

Malfoy yelped loudly, one hand flying to the shoulder where Harry’s spell had connected. Then he reached for his own wand.

“_Expelliarmus!” _

Both Harry and Malfoy’s wands flew out of their hands. McGonagall caught them neatly, but her expression was dangerously cold.

“Detention. Both of you,” she said. Her voice was quiet but it was easy to hear her over the absolute silence of the classroom. “Go and wait for me outside my office. I’ll hold onto your wands until then.”

Malfoy turned and shoved his things into his bag without a word, then pushed past Harry as he moved towards the door. Harry lingered for a moment, long enough to see that everyone was looking at him with wide eyes, while McGonagall wore a blatantly disappointed expression. 

Heat rushed to his face and he turned on his heel and followed Malfoy out of the room.

When they were two corridors away from the classroom, Malfoy stopped abruptly and shoved him.

“How dare you lay a hand on me!” he hissed, face pink with anger. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Harry said sarcastically, irritation rising to boiling point all over again. “Do I need permission to touch you? I didn’t think you _ cared _ about such things.”

Malfoy paled so fast it was startling. Harry’s rage disappeared just as fast.

That was an incredibly awful thing to say, and he was rather shocked at himself for stooping that low. It wasn’t like Malfoy had had much of a choice in what he’d done to him. It wasn’t fair to use it against him.

“Shit,” he muttered, looking around awkwardly. “Look, Malfoy, I—”

“How _ dare _ you!” Malfoy snapped. “You think I wanted to do that to you? That I’m _ that _ kind of person?”

It was on the tip of Harry’s tongue to point out that Malfoy hadn’t exactly done a stellar job of proving he was a good person over the years, but he managed to stop himself. He’d promised he was going to start over, and that meant not holding all that against him even though he still didn’t like him.

“Then why are you acting like it’s nothing?” he asked instead. “Why won’t you tell me who cursed you?”

Malfoy opened his mouth then shut it again just as fast. A muscle in his jaw visible jumped as he clenched it. By his sides, his hands curled into fists as well. 

It suddenly seemed very likely that Malfoy was acting like it was nothing to try and hide how freaked out he must have been himself. Harry could understand that urge all too well.

“If this is about your pride—” Harry started.

“Piss off,” Malfoy hissed. “It’s not about pride. I’m handling it on my own. I don’t need you sticking your daft nose into it and making matters worse.”

That sounded exactly like pride to Harry.

“Whether you like it or not, I’m already involved in this,” he said. “I became involved the moment you snogged me against that bloody wall.”

Malfoy’s whole body jerked a little back, but then he stepped forward.

“I don’t see why you’re complaining, you didn’t seem to mind,” he snapped.

For a moment, Harry couldn’t tell who he was more disgusted with, Malfoy or himself. He itched for his wand. He itched to punch him again. Any hopes he had that Malfoy wouldn’t use his reaction against him were dashed.

“I could say the same to you,” he finally spat.

Another low blow he was better than, but he was finding it hard to care as his mind turned back to those moments and his inexplicable reaction to Malfoy.

Without warning, Malfoy lashed out pushing Harry back until he was pinned to the corridor wall. He kept him there with a forearm against his chest, fist curled into the shoulder of his robes. He leaned close, his face twisted and pale.

“If you dare tell anyone about that, I will make you regret it,” he said, his voice soft but utterly unnerving. Harry supposed that’s what a ‘dangerously soft’ tone sounded like, and he didn’t like it.

That, combined with their position, suddenly threw him back to that corridor in the night, Malfoy pressed against him, mouthing at his neck and Harry’s inexplicable reaction to it. Heat flooded not only his face, but the rest of his body as well. 

Sudden proximity to Malfoy after what had happened last night should have frightened him, but he felt aroused instead.

“Let go of me,” he said without thinking, his voice embarrassingly hoarse.

Malfoy stared at him for a moment, then he smirked.

“What’s the matter, Potter?” he taunted. “You look a tad flushed.”

Harry’s mind kept showing him the different ways this could play out, only he was seeing more scenarios ending with Malfoy on top of him than should be realistic. They weren’t even all pleasant, not that _ any _ of them should be pleasant since they involved _ Malfoy_, but he could feel himself reacting to them anyway.

“Like this do you?” he asked, trying to force his voice steady. “Holding me against a wall and forcing yourself on me again? Is this the only way you can get off, Malfoy?”

Malfoy jerked back as if he’d been burned. He was so pale he looked sickly, and his hands were shaking. But then he curled them into fists and is expression morphed into one of disgust.

“At least I don’t get off on being held down,” he snapped, before turning on his heel and striding off towards McGonagall’s office.

Harry stayed where he was and watched him walk away. He was aching to snap something back, but he didn’t know what. He couldn’t really deny it. He had. Malfoy had held him down and nearly raped him and even if he’d been afraid enough to use wild magic, he’d also been aroused.

Shame flooded him, and he looked down and bit his lip hard. He needed to figure out why the hell that had happened if he had any hope of defending himself from those kinds of accusations.

But he couldn’t even begin to understand why he’d reacted the way he had.

Somehow, they managed not to fight again while they waited for McGonagall. Harry couldn’t guess why Malfoy didn’t press his advantage, but he was glad he didn’t and wasn’t about to give him reason to. He didn’t think he could win any arguments with him if Malfoy could call him out on his disturbing arousal. He didn’t have an explanation for it, no response. He couldn’t even think past it to try and come up with a response.

As soon as it came up, his mind just stuttered around it. It was doing that now. It meant there was a lingering heat warming his body, but he couldn’t make it stop. He’d tried to think of gross things while they waited, but his mind kept turning back to what Malfoy had said.

Was that it? Was that the root of his reaction? Did he enjoy being held down? Could that explain the way he was more aroused than afraid when Malfoy had assaulted him?

Before they’d ended things, he and Ginny hadn’t really gotten anywhere. He had nothing to compare it to. A bit of light snogging was as far as he’d got before the things Malfoy had done. The kisses and bites and sucking to his neck, the thigh pressing between his legs, and yes, pinning him to the wall of the corridor, to the floor.

Was _ that _ it? That it was new? Unfamiliar stimulation? Would he react the same way again?

_That _ was definitely not something he wanted to find out, even if it might help him understand why he was _ still _ aroused by the memory. 

Even that horrifying moment of clarity, realising Malfoy was trying to rape him, the hand at his belt, it still sent as much pleasure as fear through him.

It was enough to make him want to find a toilet to throw up in. 

Just as his mind started to work, _ again_, through how differently things could have gone if Harry’s magic hadn’t flared up to save him, McGonagall came striding down the corridor towards them.

Harry pushed off the wall he was leaning against and stood a little straighter. He wasn’t proud of physically lashing out against another student in the middle of class, even if it was Malfoy, and even though Malfoy had said what he’d said, but he wasn’t about to let Malfoy see how much McGonagall’s disappointment affected him.

McGonagall let them into her office without a word. She settled in the chair behind her desk. There were no chairs for them. It felt incredibly awkward to stand in front of her desk next to Malfoy. It suddenly made him feel like he was eleven years old and they’d been caught fighting after curfew.

It suddenly reminded him that they were eighteen years old and they’d now done worse than fight after curfew even though the curfew no longer applied to them.

And just like that, his mind jumped back to those moments in that dark hallway and his body flooded with heat.

“I cannot begin to convey how utterly undignified and repugnant your behaviour was today,” McGonagall said, looking at each of them in turn. “To physically strike another person is bad enough, but to do so during class and in full view of others? Explain yourselves.”

Harry’s heart stuttered in his chest and he forgot to breathe for a moment. If there was ever a time to say something about what had happened, it was now. 

But his mind turned back to his earlier fears. Would she even believe him? Would she dismiss him because of his reaction to it? Malfoy was sure to use it to defend himself. And what if she did believe him? What if it went to the Aurors and whoever it was got caught and there was a trial? What if he had to submit memories as evidence? What if it got into the papers? How he’d reacted?

As it all went spinning around in his mind, all the many ways the truth could come out, he found himself frozen.

Beside him, Malfoy was silent as well, but Harry didn’t dare look at him.

McGonagall’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t seem surprised. It hit him like a physical blow, that she’d expected he would revert to fighting with Malfoy for no good reason. He’d sworn to himself he wouldn’t, that he was older and more mature. It appeared he wasn’t, and she didn’t think so either because she didn’t seem surprised at all.

“Fifty points each from Slytherin and Gryffindor,” she said icily. “Not a good start to the school year, putting your houses in the negative.”

Harry clenched his jaw and continued to say nothing. It wasn’t right, he knew it wasn’t. Someone in the castle had used an Unforgivable Curse. He had a moral obligation to report that. 

He still found himself unable to speak.

Malfoy was still silent as well. 

It probably seemed like they planned it that way.

“In addition to the points lost,” McGonagall continued, fixing them both in turn with disappointed looks, “you will be assigned detention in the form of patrolling with the prefects for two hours after curfew three nights of the week. You will patrol together and learn to work together.”

Malfoy moved at last, his whole body jerking.

“You can’t do that!” he gasped.

Harry mirrored his sentiment, but he knew the futility of arguing their sentence. McGonagall was rarely moveable on such things. And he knew better than to question her authority.

As far as detentions went, being assigned to patrol after curfew was not so bad, but patrolling together? That seemed mad. It was almost like she_ wanted _ them to fight again. 

“I assure you, Mr Malfoy, as Headmistress, I can,” she said coldly. “You can begin tonight and you will continue until Halloween.”

“Until Halloween?” Harry yelped. “That’s two months away!”

Malfoy made a strange sound next to him, something somewhere between a squeak and a huff of annoyance. It threw Harry for a moment, and he looked at him while it sank in. When it did, he smirked and made a note to mock him for it later...until he remembered that Malfoy could just turn around and accuse Harry of wanting to be raped.

The inside of his stomach started doing incredibly uncomfortable things and he turned to face McGonagall again, wishing Malfoy had kept his damn sound to himself.

“Well, perhaps you should have considered the consequences of your actions before brawling in my classroom during the first day of school!” McGonagall said in a shrill tone. “Really, gentlemen, the war is behind us. You are of age. It’s time you put aside your petty childhood feuding and moved on!”

Harry grimaced. She was painting a horribly pathetic picture of him. It was another opportunity to bring up that it wasn’t some childish feud at all. Malfoy had almost raped him, even though he hadn’t been in control of his actions at all. Malfoy was the one being pathetic. If he would just tell Harry who had cursed him, then Harry could make sure whoever it was never did it again, one way or another, and then move on and pretend it had never happened.

His mind turned again to the feeling of hard stone beneath him, a hot mouth on neck, and a hand reaching for his belt.

A shudder shook his body. 

“If you are caught fighting again, whether with fists or magic, then your patrol duty will be extended by a week for each incident. You are dismissed.”

She held out their wands, seemingly oblivious to Harry’s discomfort. He didn’t wait around for her to notice. He took his wand back and left the room. Malfoy followed close behind.

The moment the door shut behind them, Malfoy turned on Harry.

“Are you going to tell anyone?” he asked. 

Harry stared at him. He could see Malfoy’s hands shaking. For all that he was acting like an absolute prick about this, he was obviously affected as well. Their fighting made Harry forget for a moment just how serious it was. Malfoy had assaulted him, he probably would have raped him if Harry’s magic hadn’t saved him, but it hadn’t been his choice. He’d been just as helpless as Harry. More so, really. At least Harry had been able to fight back, even if he’d done a poor job of it.

They needed to tell someone. They needed to get whoever it was caught and punished.

But he just couldn’t move past his aversion towards anyone finding out how he’d reacted. Not when he didn’t even understand it himself and couldn’t begin to think of a way to defend it. He didn’t even think it deserved defending. It shouldn’t have happened at all.

He most definitely did not want anyone else to know about it. He wished he didn’t know about it himself. He wished he would stop _ thinking _ about it.

“No, I’d rather just forget it ever happened,” he replied, softer than he meant to. He cleared his throat. “But I need to know who’s going around casting Unforgivables, Malfoy.”

Malfoy looked away sharply. His shaking hands curled into fists.

“They’re not,” he said shortly, his voice full of undisguised anger. “It was one stupid prank and I’ll make sure they pay for it. You don’t need to worry about it ever happening again. I will ensure that it won’t.”

“A prank?” Harry repeated numbly. “A stupid _ prank_? You were tyring to _ rape _ me! That’s not a prank, that’s a fucking _ crime. _That’s...that’s…”

He couldn’t find words. He knew he wasn’t reacting to what had happened the way he should. He knew he should have been more angry, more scared. But to call it a _ prank_? 

“Don’t be so melodramatic. Honestly,” Malfoy sneered. He was still looking away, his hands were still shaking, but Harry was finding it hard to care anymore. “I only snogged you a bit. I wouldn’t have fucked you.”

It was one thing for Malfoy to be uncomfortable talking about this, but it was another for him to just brush it aside like it was _ nothing_. As if Harry had no right to be upset or uncomfortable about it at all.

Without thinking, Harry reached out and shoved him, forcefully enough to send him stumbling across the corridor.

“So that was your wand I felt pressing into my hip then?” he snarled. “That wasn’t your hand trying to get my trousers off? And I suppose I just imagined being held down on the floor and unable to get away while you put your mouth and hands on me after I repeatedly asked you to stop?”

Pink seeped onto Malfoy’s pale face, but his expression was set in anger. 

“Shut up!” he snapped. “I was cursed!”

Faced with that tone, Harry couldn’t stop himself from snorting and replying with, “Oh, sod off. You enjoyed it. I bet you didn’t even try to fight it.”

Malfoy moved so fast Harry had no time to react before he was blasted backwards into the wall, smacking his head so hard his vision went black for a moment. He found himself slumped on the ground and staggered to his feet a second later, swaying a little.

When he looked over, he found Malfoy staring at him, wide-eyed, his wand lowered. He looked taken aback by the force of his own spell, but started lifting his wand again when Harry regained his footing.

Harry got him back before he could cast again. He caught Malfoy off guard with a non-verbal leg-binding curse. Malfoy was too slow with his arms and smacked his face on the floor when he fell over, making an amusing sound as he did so.

“Boys!”

Harry whipped around and nearly cursed McGonagall before he realised what was going on. She stood in the open doorway to her office, looking at them with a thunderous expression. 

“I leave you alone for less than ten minutes and you are fighting again!” she said, her voice almost shrill. “Your patrol duty has been extended until Christmas, and if I catch you again it will be for the entire school year. Am I clear?”

Harry nodded, though the motion made his head ache and his vision swim again. She fixed him with a piercing look and he averted his eyes. He shouldn’t have let Malfoy bait him again, and he certainly shouldn't have baited Malfoy in return. In general but especially over something so serious. She would only be more disappointed if she knew the truth.

“Good. Now, Mr Potter, release Mr Malfoy from that curse,” she commanded, her voice no longer shrill but hard instead.

Without looking at her, he cast the counter-curse and watched Malfoy get to his feet. His face was bloody, it appeared he’d broken his nose. From the trickling sensation against the back of his neck, Harry had a feeling he was bleeding as well. 

“Now, both of you are to go straight to the infirmary,” McGonagall ordered. “Do not let me catch you fighting again!”

Harry nodded and turned to leave. He didn’t wait around to see if Malfoy would follow and he didn’t turn when he heard footsteps behind him.

“What the bloody hell was that with Malfoy today?”

Harry groaned and let his head fall to the table. He’d spent the walk back from the Hospital Wing trying to think of a lie and had come up with nothing convincing. Out of desperation to avoid the conversation that was coming, he’d even hidden from Ron and Hermione until after dinner, which he’d had in the kitchens instead. He’d even gone to sit in the back of the library after that to put this off.

“He said something to piss me off,” he muttered, well aware it wasn’t good enough.

“Harry! You hit him in the middle of class!” Hermione admonished. 

“Yeah, why did you even sit with him?” Ron asked. “We saved you a seat.”

Harry grimaced. He couldn’t say it. He wasn’t sure what would happen if it was reported and he knew they would both urge him to tell. Hermione would probably report it behind his back if he didn’t. And then everyone would know.

“I needed to ask him something,” he muttered, keeping his head down on the table so they wouldn’t see his face. “He was a right git about it and I lost my temper.”

Maybe if he told the truth without details they’d buy it and leave him alone, even if it did sound pathetic. That was really what it boiled down to anyway.

“Mate, you can’t go around fighting Malfoy all year,” Ron said. “You know he’s relying on the second chance you promised him at the trials. If you turn around and start fighting him again and treat him like a Death Eater it won’t just go badly for him, but all the other Slytherins too. And you saw how terrified those first years looked when they were sorted into Slytherin. We all committed to giving them another chance, we have to stick to it.”

Harry raised his head and gave him an incredulous look that was mirrored by Hermione. Ron looked between them and frowned.

“What? If his mother hadn’t lied to Voldemort, Harry could be dead right now. You said yourself, Harry, he tried to stop Crabbe and Goyle from killing you in the Room of Requirement,” he pointed out. “And don’t forget the fact he didn’t identify you at his house. When it counted, he helped even though he was supposed to be on their side. He at least deserves a second chance. If he turns around and proves he hasn’t changed and doesn’t deserve it, then so be it, but being a git isn’t the same as being a Death Eater.”

They both stared at him for a moment, then Harry scowled. He’d been counting on Ron’s hatred towards Malfoy to smooth this over. Ron had always hated Malfoy even more than Harry sometimes. He hadn’t even wanted to agree to give everyone a second chance, he’d grumbled and complained about having to be nice to them until Ginny had overhead them and said they didn’t have to be nice to be fair.

“Well, he could be less of a git now,” Harry muttered.

“And you could rise to his bait less,” Hermione chided. “They’re just words, you need to stop letting them get to you.”

Harry stared at her, caught between feeling hot with shame and cold with..._something _ as his mind turned back to what had actually happened.

“What did McGonagall say?” Ron prompted.

The unsettling feeling flooding Harry didn’t go away, but he tried to force it down and focus on being annoyed instead.

“She’s making us patrol together three nights a week until Christmas.”

Hermione frowned at him. “That’s a long punishment for what happened.”

Harry looked down at the desk.

“What did you do?” Ron asked, sounding almost amused.

It made Harry feel worse to think about that argument and how low he’d stooped to try and win it. He was better than that, and yet he’d done it anyway, without even thinking. 

Maybe he wasn’t better than that after all.

“He started it,” he muttered, although he couldn't even really remember for sure if that was true.

“You fought again? Why can’t you just ignore him?” Hermione huffed.

“I’m supposed to ignore him being a right prat? That’s not fair!”

“It’s not meant to be fair,” Hermione said, disapprovingly. “Everyone’s watching you right now to see how you treat people like Malfoy. Ron’s right, it’s important you do the right thing here and give him a chance.”

“I didn’t ask for that!” Harry hissed. “I didn’t ask for any of this! I shouldn’t have to ignore him being a fucking bastard just because nobody can think for themselves and all mimic me instead! If he acts like a prat I’m damn well going to be one right back!”

Ron made a strange sound.

“That’s a bit childish, mate,” he said carefully. “We’re adults now, we’re supposed to move past that stuff.”

Harry shoved back from the table and got to his feet. His hands were shaking so he shoved them into the pockets of his robes.

“Sod off! The both of you!” he snapped, finding it alarmingly difficult to breathe all of a sudden. “You don’t know what happened!”

They exchanged a look, then Ron reached out to touch his arm.

“What happened, Harry?”

Harry pulled away from him. “I have patrol duty,” he muttered, turning and weaving through the shelves. Several people turned to look at him as he went, and his stomach twisted uncomfortably as he realised there were more people in the library than he’d thought there would be after the first day of classes. When he reached the entrance, Madam Pince looked at him but didn’t say anything, and he almost wished she had interrupted them to tell him off for being too loud.

What if he’d let slip what had actually happened? Anyone could have overhead him.

The last thing he wanted was to be alone with Malfoy in deserted hallways, but he couldn’t very well explain that to McGonagall now. Not when she was so irritated and disappointed in him. 

He squared his shoulders and made his way to the prefects’ common room. He just needed to push it from his mind and think of something else.

“Harry!”

Harry winced and cursed himself for arriving early. Nothing was going right lately, and the last thing he needed right now was to come face to face with Dennis Creevey. Somehow, since last seeing him, he’d come to look remarkably like Colin, and that just brought to mind Colin’s small body laid out in the Great Hall. Or maybe Dennis didn’t look anything like Colin after all and that was just Harry’s rebellious mind punishing him for inspiring someone to their death.

“Dennis,” he said wearily, plastering a fake smile on his face as he turned to face him.

“You remember my name!”

Harry couldn’t stand to see the smile on his face. Colin had smiled at every tiny acknowledgment in the same way. 

“Hello, Harry.”

Harry managed to tear his eyes from Dennis to find Luna standing beside him. 

“Luna? You’re a prefect?” he asked, though it was rather pointless. Her badge may have been pinned upside down to her robes, but it was there and plain to see.

With a melodic hum, Luna brushed her fingers over the badge.

“Yes, I was just as surprised as you,” she said. “I don’t think many others wanted to fill the gaps. They reuse badges, you know. They’re very heavy.”

_ Fill the gaps _.

Harry swallowed heavily. Trust Luna to put it so bluntly. 

“I think you’re going to be brilliant,” Dennis said, beaming at her. “You’re the nicest person I’ve met. Prefects shouldn’t all be strict!”

Luna smiled back at him.

A hand landed on Harry’s shoulder and turned him around. He found himself face to face with Ginny. She was wearing one of those terrifying expressions that was so like Molly when she was angry that Harry immediately ducked his head down before he could stop himself.

“You are incapable of having a quiet year, aren’t you?” she said. “As if being Head Girl isn’t bloody ridiculous enough, now I have to supervise your detention.”

Harry checked her robes and didn’t find the badge in sight. She’d worn it during the welcoming feast, but he couldn’t recall seeing it again since.

“You’re not wearing your badge,” he said awkwardly. Even if they’d ended things amicably enough, he still wasn’t entirely sure how to talk to her yet.

She groaned and dug around in the pocket of her robe. When she pinned the badge on, it was crooked and she didn’t seem to care. 

“Don’t change the subject,” she said. “You know I won’t cover for you. If you and Malfoy end up fighting, I will report you.”

“I know,” Harry said, watching Dennis and Luna wander off. “I don’t expect you to.”

“I don’t want to be Head Girl, but I’m going to do it right,” she continued. “And honestly, Harry, what happened? You vowed with the rest of us to give the Slytherins a second chance, to be fair. You didn’t even last one full day before starting a fight with Malfoy. And punching him in the middle of class? That’s not like you.”

Anger pulsed through Harry until he curled his hands into fists at his sides. He was so sick of being blamed. He shouldn’t have hit Malfoy, sure, but they could at least give him the benefit of the doubt that Malfoy had done something terrible enough to warrant it.

“It doesn’t matter,” he muttered. “I just want to get this over with, not talk about it.”

She studied him for a moment, then sighed. 

“If I could, I’d assign you to patrol with someone else. I can’t believe she put you two together for this.”

Harry grimaced. 

“Just, don’t give me a reason to report you, please,” she said, reaching out and touching his upper arm. “I will report you if I have to, but I won’t enjoy it.”

“You’re going to make a great Head Girl,” Harry muttered. “But you could just make the Head Boy do it.”

Harry still didn’t know who that was. He’d seen a Ravenclaw boy walking around with the Head Boy badge but couldn’t remember ever noticing him before.

“No,” Ginny said with a sigh. “I’m not giving anyone any reason to think I’m biased when it comes to you, or any of my other friends. It’s already bad enough they think I’m only Head Girl because of you.”

“Gin’,” he said softly.

She gave him a tired smile. “It’s fine. I didn’t want it in the first place so it doesn’t bother me. But I’m still going to do a good job.” She snorted and shook her head. “I’m not stupid either. I got it because I’m well known and well liked. I have good grades, so I’m a good example. I captain a Quidditch team, so I have leadership skills. I have inter-house friendships, so I’m inclusive. I fought in the war, so I work well under stress and understand what other students might be going through this year. I get it. I don’t want it, but I get it. It was a smart choice.”

Harry nodded, then tapped the badge pinned to her chest. “Better start wearing that more often then.”

She made a face. “I keep having Percy flashbacks. I think he gave me a severe distaste for badges.”

Harry snorted and she grinned at him. 

“I did think about mocking him when I got it,” she said. “But I think he wouldn’t have realised I wasn’t serious.”

“He probably wouldn’t have,” Harry agreed.

“Ginny? Everyone’s here,” interrupted a boy. 

A quick once over revealed it was the Head Boy. Harry studied his face now that he was closer, and still found he didn’t recognise him. 

“Thanks, Anderson,” Ginny said, looking around. “Get everyone sitting down, I’ll fetch the schedules.”

Anderson nodded and walked off to where the others were standing around. 

Harry inhaled deeply, then looked around until he spotted Malfoy leaning against the wall by the door. He was looking at his feet instead of around the room. He looked just as uncomfortable to be there as Harry felt.

It shouldn’t have, but it made Harry feel a bit better.

“Don’t let me catch you fighting, Harry,” Ginny said, grabbing his arm and squeezing tightly. “Aside from how wrong it will feel to report you, you’ve already lost us enough bloody points. Got it?”

He nodded curtly and pulled his arm free. She stared him down for a moment, then turned and crossed the room to pick a stack of papers up off a desk.

“Over here, Harry!”

Harry turned to find Dennis waving at him. Luna smiled and gestured at the free space on the sofa next to them. There was an odd assortment of sofas and armchairs, and he could have sat elsewhere, but he took the space anyway, trying not to notice that Malfoy stayed where he was by the door.

Ginny went around handing out the papers. Harry looked down at his, noting which days he was patrolling, and what areas. A low pulse of unsease rushed through him as he realised they were all secluded and mostly disused areas of the castle. It would be unlikely they’d find anyone there at all.

What was McGonagall thinking? Did she actually _ want _ them to fight again?

“Malfoy, take a seat,” Ginny said sharply a moment later, holding one last piece of parchment. “There are things to go over before we start patrols.”

Harry’s neck itched with the urge to turn and look at him, but he kept his eyes on his schedule instead.

There was a tense silence, then Malfoy sat heavily in an armchair two seats away from Harry.

Ginny took her own seat, then started talking. Harry tuned her out when he realised it was all Prefect business. He looked down at his schedule instead, and the crisp ‘Draco Malfoy’ next to his own name.

His sense of unease grew the longer he stared at it and the more he thought about those secluded corridors they were set to patrol as soon as Ginny finished speaking.

**Author's Note:**

> I won't be working on this with any regularity, it's such a massive project and I have plenty of new fics/ideas/fandoms distracting me. I'll just chip away at it when it suits me. The [original version is online again](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7408114/chapters/16826122), so it can be read there to get the full story, but be aware there will be a **sharp** quality drop if you go read that, it's 3 years old and was one of the first fics I wrote/finished, the quality reflects that XD
> 
> Unbeta'd, all errors are my own.
> 
> Comments along the lines of 'more please' 'update soon' are more likely to sap my motivation than increase it, so please refrain from leaving such comments, thanks.
> 
> I hate that this has to be said, but please **do not repost this to another site, do not download a copy and share it with minors**.


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